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He grabs my hand and pulls me along. But I stop in front of the car, glancing back at my sister, who still refuses to back down from her silent battle with Sasha.

“Go. I’ll be fine,” she says simply, not even looking at me.

I turn away, my hands trembling as I follow Nikolaï. But inside, rage builds—rage at myself, at my uselessness, at my fears that paralyze me, at the person I’ve become.

The walk back to the manor is silent, except for the curious glances thrown our way by the guards stationed at the gate.

Nikolaï releases my hand and pushes open the heavy front door, stepping inside without looking back.

He starts up the stairs, and I close the door behind us, following quietly.

I frown when I realize he’s not stopping at the guest floor—he keeps climbing to the third floor, where his room and his sons’ rooms are.

“Where are you going ?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond.

We reach the twins’ bedroom, and he carefully opens the door, stepping inside. He approaches Andrei’s bed, pulling back the covers and laying Rafael beside him. After removing his jacket, he tucks both boys in, watching as they instinctively curl up against each other.

He motions for me to leave, and after one last glance at the children, I quietly step out.

Nikolaï closes the door gently, but his shoulders remain tense.

I barely have time to react before I’m lifted into his arms, my own arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“What are you doing?! Put me down!” I protest, squirming.

“So you can escape the second I look away?” he says, still avoiding my eyes. “And stop yelling. You’ll wake the kids.”

I press my lips together, unable to argue.

He strides into his room and kicks the door shut put me gently on the bed then turn to lock the door.

And, he doesn’t move.

Forehead against the wood, his broad back tense, he just… stands there.

Slowly, I get to my feet, my legs trembling.

“Nikolaï… I… I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect my family. And yours, too. The longer we stay here, the more v—”

I flinch when he suddenly turns around, his hands sliding up to cup my face, fingers threading into my hair. His eyes pierce into mine, studying every inch of my face as if seeing me for the first time.

“Nikolaï ?” I whisper.

His gaze locks onto mine.

“Do you think like your sister?” he asks, catching me off guard.

I swallow hard, my eyes lowering.

“I… We’ve only known each other for two weeks, but I’ve known the mafia for years. Trust doesn’t exist. There are only strategies, schemes, blackmail, and betrayals,” I murmur, slowly raising my head. “I… I can’t, Nikolaï. I don’t want to keep living in this dark world—not even for what you offer me. Please, I beg you… let us go. For everyone’s sake.”

My voice trembles. Tears fall despite my efforts to stop them.

He looks at me, and I feel like he sees everything—my fears, my regrets, my wounds, my pain. He reads me like an open book.

“Don’t cry,” he breathes, wiping my tears before pulling me against his chest, enveloping me in his warmth.